Someone to Listen
by TheGirlInWonderland
Summary: You never told me what was wrong, and I never noticed anything, until it was almost too late. I should've seen something, you should've said something. Romano POV


You're falling off the edge, and there's nothing I can do about it. You clutch at the blade in your hand like it will save your life, but all it will do is cut it shorter.

What happened? Ever since I can remember, you've been smiling, you've been happy. When did begin slipping into the void? When did you welcome the end and the sadness that came with it? When did you stop caring that it wasn't just you that would get hurt?

"Antonio!" I shrieked, seeing you there, red blood staining white tile.

You raised your head, and watched me through dull green eyes. You told me to leave, so I wouldn't have to see you like that.

"Lovi, go. Leave," you commanded dully.

"Antonio! No, oh God, no! Tonio!" I frantically ran back and forth. Was I supposed to call the police? Try and stop the blood from seeping through the cuts on your wrists?

I dialed 911 and frantically choked on sobs as the phone rang and rang and finally the woman on the other end picked up and I told her what happened and she told me to calm down but I couldn't and finally I could tell her where you were and what you had done and I hung up and cried.

The ambulance came and I rode with you, staring at your arms. You were pale and sweating and you looked already dead. I threw up in the back of the ambulance.

I sat in the waiting room, hating myself and my weakness. You were slipping off the edge of the abyss, and I couldn't see it. I couldn't see the void inside of you until it was too late. You had to show me with slashes on your arms and a wish for death in your eyes.

I cried when the doctor came out and told me how you were. You were alive, hanging on by the tips of your fingers. Your fingernails were dug into the dirt, valiantly trying to save you from the pulling, reaching grasp of the dark place you suddenly didn't want to be in anymore.

I couldn't see you until the next day, when you had woken up. You didn't look like you, wrapped up in those wires and tubes. You tried to smile, but winced when I burst into tears again. You told me you would be all right, but you could see I didn't believe you. I asked you why you did it, and you seemed confused. You asked me why not?

I asked you again, and you seemed to think for a moment. You told me it was because you were so unbearably lonely. It was the kind of loneliness that chokes you, the kind that holds your voice in place like a cat stepping on a mouse's tail. You told me that you didn't think you could tell anyone what was wrong without thinking that you were bothering them, that the slight stutter in your voice was repulsive, that the tone of your voice made no one want to listen to you.

You told me that you were supposed to be the happy one, the one who listens to everyone, and agrees with them. You were supposed to be the peacemaker. You were supposed to comfort people when they cry, and when it was your turn, you hid your shameful tears in corners and secluded places.

You said that most people had to whisper where you had to shout. You said that it was crushing you to be like this. You had to be loud and annoying just to get attention, you had to seek out other people, they wouldn't come to you.

I nodded and listened to you spill your stomach of all the secrets that had been eating holes in it. you felt guilty for wanting to cry for no reason. You felt like you were stupid and lazy. You felt like that writing was the only thing that would make you feel better, and even then no one listened.

You wanted to leave, and some morbid part of you wanted to see exactly how many people would cry over your lifeless corpse, and how many of those people hadn't listened when you tried to tell them something, anything.

By the time you were done, both of us were crying, our tears mingling and parting on your cheeks. I told you that I loved you, and I would listen. You smiled weakly and told me that you knew I would. You promised to tell me if anything was wrong ever again.

Antonio, I hope you keep that promise.

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**Author's Note- Sorry I haven't updated the New Countries lately, it's been Show Week for my school play, which means I can't do any homework, let alone obsessively edit fanfiction. This is just something I wrote really quickly backstage, when I was feeling like complete shit about myself.**

**If you ever feel like Spain has in this fanfiction, I just want you to know that even if I am a random person on the Internet you'll probably never meet, you can still talk to me. Just shoot me a PM, and we can talk about anything. I can't promise that I can give you answers, but sometimes just having someone listen can help. **

**Please review!**


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